


only a child

by mikkal



Series: giggle not into the abyss [16]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-24 00:27:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16629353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikkal/pseuds/mikkal
Summary: Ravus has some guilt-inducing hindsight going on.





	only a child

“Of course, you’d believe that…”

Noctis scowls at him then looks away sharply, arms folded tight across his chest defensively. “Why wouldn’t you?” he grinds out.

He surveys him, the pinched lines around his mouth, the stress in his forehead and at the corners of his eyes. Ravus almost feels guilty—or, he tells himself it’s an _almost_. Half, maybe more of a third, of that pain and stress is caused by him and him alone. He’s already gotten a chewing out from Lunafreya, but, honestly, he’d had brushed her off just a little bit.

Noctis Lucis Caelum did not deserve his forgiveness or any lack of ill-will. It was because of him Niflheim had come bearing down on them so long ago. It was because of him his mother is dead and his sister is dying. Ravus knows this. He knows it like the knows the stem of a sylleblossom. He knows it like he knows the soft lace that trimmed his mother’s most elaborate gown, the lines of it he would trace absently during those times galas became too overwhelming when he was little.

Ravus had brushed her off, dogged Noctis in the moments his Shield became distracted. He savored every flinch, every encounter where the prince of a ruined kingdom—them two birds of a feather—swallowed his pride and tried to make nice. That part had been surprising. He had heard Noctis was a quiet man, but he also heard he got frustrated far too easily and lashed out with biting remarks.

The fact that he so willingly let Ravus into their little group despite his discomfort and his retinue’s distaste, all because Lunafreya had asked and Ravus promised not to kill him, speaks wonders for his character.

Now, after travelling together for a month, Ravus had to take a step back. He lost no sleep over the discomfort he caused—at least in the beginning—but then he noticed the waxy paleness of Noctis’ face, the shadows under his eyes, and the tremor in his hands that doesn’t go away even in the midst of battle. He’s not going to pretend he’s not the cause of that and, yes, he does feel guilty for it.

Noctis had done everything in his power to keep Lunafreya happy, and that meant being civil to the man who tried to kill his father as retribution and who tried to take his birthright from him.

When Ravus said, quietly despite the fact the rest of the group had pulled away, “I don’t hate you,” he’s not shocked by Noctis huffing in disbelief and leaning against a tree, calling for a break. Lunafreya eyes them curiously, the retinue warily, but they don’t approach.

“Of course, you’d believe that…” … _that I do hate you_. Why wouldn’t he?

“Why wouldn’t you? You haven’t done anything to prove you don’t.” Noctis still refuses to look at him. “And I don’t blame you for hating me,” he says quietly, barely audible. “There’s a lot I still have to fix.”

Ravus watches him carefully. Noctis’ fingers tremble as he slides his hair back. His bangs just return to shadow his face. “I was wrong,” he tells him softly. Noctis’ eyes snap to his. “You were a child then.”

“You blamed my dad too.” He laughs something self-deprecating and bitter. “All the Caelums. Because there were only two of us left, it was easy to do.” His breathes hitch something horrifyingly close to a sob. He covers his eyes with a hand. “Now it’s easier, now there’s only one.”

It’s taken him so long, but now it’s a dawning realization. They were both children then. And he’s done possibly irreversible damage. Ravus sighs something small. He unsheathes his sword in one swift motion that makes Noctis flinch again. It’s Lunafreya that keeps the others are bay, for which he is grateful.

Noctis refuses to look at him still as he steps closer. Ravus holds the sword out to him, pommel first, wrist twisted awkwardly. He’s tempted to present the sword has he truly should, one hand below the cross guard on the blade and the other cradling the central edge. But perhaps that will come later.

Noctis doesn’t take it, his eyes averted.

Ravus gently curls his hands over the prince’s, forcing him to take the sword. When his hand first touches the grip, he stiffens in surprise, eyes widening. The Sword of the Father sits in its rightful place now, Ravus steps back.

“I don’t hate you,” he promises. The smile he receives in return is weak but it’s a start.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi to me on tumblr! mikkalia15.tumblr.com


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